Mistaking Me for Meat & Colonizing Mars

Well I’m back from Cabo…. I told you last night I was taking the night off and everyone knows when I have time off I head down to my villa… luckily the jet was gassed up and so we went down to enjoy a nice dinner seaside…. it was fantastic….

Oh wait, so that’s what the doctors mean when they call me delusional, funny I’ve never noticed that before.

The main reason I didn’t feel like posting last night was that I had just been hooked up for my 24 hour heart halter monitor. It is now my intention to relay the whole process whereby one goes about getting hooked up. It’s a digital recorder you wear to get a constant heart tracing, which gets sent to your doctor and that gives them a clear picture of what is going on with your ticker.

Sounds simple enough… well it isn’t.

Steps to being outfitted with a heart halter monitor;

1. Spend 45 minutes trying to find parking, while 93 other people hover around the same 6 spots
2. Still on a high from that mornings mom beating, take out remaining frustrations on an old lady driving a mint 1973 Buick Skylark who was basically slowing down all space and time with her deplorable parking
3. Wipe the old lady makeup off my fists
4. Walk up and then into the Clinic, take a number… number I have pulled from machine is 117…. number now being served is 8
5. My Children graduate from University
6. Still, my number has not been called
7. Watch the invention of flying cars on small TV in waiting room, see humans colonize mars
8. Number is finally called, now I’ve been processed and asked to sit in another waiting area before going in to have actual monitor put on
9. Set up a small campsite in the middle of 4500 other POW’s, each and every one of them with their own unique and interesting disease and infection, I try and will myself to stop breathing
10. Star Date 2755 – I am called in to the room to be outfitted with the device
11. Get your shirt off, the little Filipino nurse tells me, much less sexy than I imagine similar circumstances countless times previous…
12. As she turns around I see the glint of a Bic razor, this can’t be good
13. She begins hacking through my chest hair like Gunga Din on meth, thankfully chest hair is not at full sail, thanks to earlier chest operation shaving
14. Roughly 9,107 chest electrode attached to every square inch of skin, with possibly the strongest adhesive known to man, apparently it’s the same glue they use to attach those fire-proof tiles to the space shuttle
15. Attach wire to every electrode, now looks like I’m wearing a sport coat made entirely of black spaghetti
16. Nurse now proceeds to wrap me in a gigantic nylon mesh condom which encircles my body, to help keep all the electrodes and wires in place
17. Identify my kinship with a massive Johnsonville Brautwurst
18. Shove down my humiliation, re-shirt myself and leave building
19. Drive home, upper body nearly totally immobilized due to mesh sheath completely compressing innards
20. Forced to write down in journal every time I move, to later be coordinated with readings on machine I’m wearing
21. Take a nap, watch tv, read – minimize movements
22. Spend the day as normally as possible, sympathize with spanx wearers the world over, develop a corset fetish
23. Go to bed, still in the chair, tried the bed, still no good, movement limited by machine wrapped around waist
24. Feeling warm and cosy in my cocoon, hope to become a beautiful butterfly upon waking
25. No luck on the butterfly thing, still a brautwurst
26. 24 hours almost up, head back to clinic to have harness, wires, electrodes and tube skirt removed
27. Lose the top 3 layers of skin to the super NASA adhesive holding them on
28. Marvel at the mesh pattern embedded in my skin, consider using coloured markers on different squares of upper body – rendering myself into a living game of tetris
29. Get dressed, leave building, celebrate my new size double zero waist
30. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it….